Clayton froze, anxiety gripping his chest. Should he hide, or open the door? Torn between fear and confusion, his hands didn't stop moving—he kept packing the most important of his belongings.
Before he could even react, the door burst open, and a group of rough-looking men stormed into the house.
Seeing who they were, Clayton let out a quiet sigh of relief. They weren't connected to the trio of robbers from earlier—they were city administrative enforcers.
Still, something felt off. Why were they here?
"Heh, kid. Planning a rebellion or something? Why didn't you open the door when I called?" barked the man at the front—Tiger.
"Ah, Brother Tiger, I didn't mean to ignore you. I was tidying up and didn't hear clearly. Lately, too many people have been showing up at my house, so I didn't think it'd be you. But hey, what brings someone as busy as you here?" Clayton replied politely, adding a touch of flattery.
Tiger glanced around the cluttered house. He seemed to buy the explanation, but he didn't care. He got straight to the point.
"Alright, then—do you have money?"
"Uh… no, Brother Tiger. Why do you ask?"
"Word is you're working as a farming assistant now. Don't tell me you're broke. Pay your residential tax—today! If not, you're out of the city."
Clayton was stunned.
"Wait, Brother Tiger, I thought the deadline wasn't for a few more months. Why now?"
"What, you doubting me?" Tiger snapped, eyes narrowing. "I'm the one running things around here, not you!"
Suddenly, an overwhelming pressure crashed down on Clayton, like a mountain collapsing on top of him. He couldn't move. Just from Tiger's glare, the aura of a Six-Star Apprentice Mage nearly knocked him unconscious.
After a few seconds, the pressure lifted. Clayton collapsed to the floor, gasping.
Tiger scoffed. "Pay the tax. If I don't see the money today, you won't be sleeping under a roof tonight."
Clayton's blood boiled. How could they just change the rules like this?
He knew Tiger's group was targeting him, but if they pushed too hard, people would start asking questions. And that wouldn't sit well with the higher-ups.
That earlier pressure was the furthest Tiger could go without attracting attention. If not for the city's regulations, Clayton might already be dead.
But right now, he had no options. The loot from the earlier fight wasn't enough. And he couldn't risk revealing the high-value items—magic staffs, robes, or weapons would raise suspicion.
Feeling trapped, Clayton tried to negotiate.
"Brother Tiger, please—just give me two—no, one more day. I swear I'll pay, with interest."
"No can do. Today's the deadline. Can't pay now? Then don't blame me when things get ugly."
Clayton started to panic. "But I really don't have enough money…"
"Not my problem," Tiger said coldly. "Sell your stuff, your house, or even yourself—I don't care how you do it. Just get it done."
The weight on Clayton's chest grew heavier.
Defeated, he stepped outside, hoping to borrow from his neighbors.
A crowd had already gathered, drawn by the earlier commotion. At least he wouldn't have to go door to door.
But to his dismay, the moment he approached, they all stepped back—like he carried the plague.
Clayton gave a bitter smile. He didn't understand people's hearts. He'd helped them with farming not long ago. He thought they'd return the favor—just a little.
If each person lent a small amount, he could cover the tax. But clearly, that wasn't going to happen.
Then, he turned to the only person who might still help.
Tiger watched from the side, smirking. He'd been pressured by someone higher up—ordered to make Clayton suffer in exchange for promised riches. But so far, all he'd received was frustration.
Watching Clayton squirm gave him twisted satisfaction.
He wasn't worried anyone would help. The world of magic was cold. Who would risk crossing a Six-Star Mage to help a weak One-Star?
But then—Tiger's face darkened, like he'd been slapped.
"Uncle Lorenzo… could I borrow a few lower-grade magic crystals? I promise I'll pay them back in a few days," Clayton asked softly.
He had nearly given up. Even Old Man Wood and Grass—who once seemed kind—had refused to lend him even one crystal.
Clayton realized this wasn't just about money. There was something deeper going on.
If he couldn't pay, he'd lose his house. But selling it would only draw more attention, and bring in very little. He was out of moves.
He didn't expect the middle-aged man before him to risk anything.
Lorenzo looked ready to decline. But beside him, his daughter Leora tugged at his sleeve with pleading eyes.
The girl clearly wanted to help.
Lorenzo hesitated. He remembered Clayton's father—an old friend who once saved him during a crisis. A debt he'd never repaid.
He looked at his daughter, then at Clayton's desperate face.
What if my own child ends up like this one day, when I'm no longer around?
Finally, he sighed.
"Alright. I'll lend it to you. But I'm warning you—I don't have many crystals left..."
Clayton's eyes widened. "Really, Uncle Lorenzo? Just ten will be enough!"
Without another word, Lorenzo handed them over.
They felt heavier than any gold—heavy with meaning.
A fire ignited in Clayton's heart. He swore he would never forget this kindness.
Without wasting a second, he ran home and met Tiger with fierce determination.
"Here, Brother Tiger. Please check it—thirty lower-grade magic crystals."
Tiger's expression soured instantly. He hadn't expected anyone to help Clayton.
He counted the crystals, scowled, then stormed off.
But as he passed Lorenzo's house, he let out a cold snort. A moment later, Lorenzo staggered and fell, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
Gasps echoed through the crowd. Clayton rushed over.
"Uncle, are you okay?"
Cough "I'll be fine. Just… a small injury," Lorenzo said with a strained smile.
Tiger had clearly attacked him—a warning, and an outlet for his frustration.
Lorenzo was angry, but not regretful.
Leora sobbed beside him, blaming herself. If she hadn't intervened, her father wouldn't have been hurt.
Her heart churned with guilt and confusion.
Meanwhile, Clayton stood still, fists clenched, head lowered. Rage burned in his chest.
Someone else had been hurt—because of him.
He bit his lip hard, nearly drawing blood, just to stay grounded. To stop himself from losing control.
"I'll never forget this humiliation. One day… I'll make them pay."